xChapter 12x
Sunday, February 10, 2003
3:44 A.M.
The Coolest Church Retreat in the World
There is a slight drizzle dusting the window glass with water droplets. The window floats alone in the middle of a field, no walls for support, no gravity pulling it down. Everywhere I look there is rain and grass, but I can't seem to move away from the spot I'm currently fixated in.
Looking through this floating window, I seem a girl. Small frame. Blond hair.
As she approaches a small smile appears on her face revealing dimples on each side if her face. With every step, the pace of my heartbeat quickens.
Once she reaches the window, a pale hand stretches out and lays delicately on the glass. Suddenly, at the touch, cracks web out from the finger, swiftly spreading to the outer corners. At this moment, the glass completely shatters, falling to the ground as sand.
Her hand reaches out to me next, long fingers tracing the line of my jaws. Goosebumps web out from her touch just like the glass.
"Carey," I breathe out, my eyes drifting shut.
"Marcus?" Carey says, a worried tone in her voice. My eyes flutter back open to see her grasping at her hand desperately. With every second, her fingers slowly disintegrate into sand. Her arms, her legs, her torso, and finally her face, all turn to sand and tumble to the ground. The look of terror in Carey's face is permanently engraved into my mind.
I know I am dreaming, yet it feels so real.
x x x x x
Sunday, February 10, 2003
4:26 P.M.
Mumford Household
Empty.
I shut the letterbox door and open up the door to the house. I have a new sense of emptiness, but at the same time a sense of home also walks up to me and kisses me on the cheek. I've actually kind of sort of missed this place.
My first priority and stop is the kitchen. James is standing at the counter, intensely focused on stirring his tea, dressed head to toe in his standard black McDonalds uniform.There is a pile of mail sitting on the counting so I grab it and go through each letter, praying my name will pop up on one. There isn't anything for me.
"James?" I say, tossing the stack of mail back onto the kitchen counter.
"Mmmm?" my brother responds while sipping his tea.
"Did you by chance see a letter in the mail that was addressed to me?"
"No, why?" he says with eyebrows raised, a stupid smirk on his face.
"Nevermind," I grumble and turn on my way out of the room.
"Wait."
I whip back around. "Yeah?" I say all to excitedly.
"A girl called... Carey was her name?"
My first reaction is eyes bugging out of my head. How did she even get my home phone number? But then I quickly try as best as I can to wipe the look from my face. Pull yourself together, Marcus.
"She said she needed to talk to you immediately, but obviously you weren't here..." he trails off.
"Well? Where's her number?" James' eyebrows knit together. "So I can call her back?"
His face turns into a small "o" shape and I know for a fact he didn't think to write it down.
Why does this always happen to me?
{A/N}
Wrote this while I was supposed to be taking a quiz in my online AP Spanish class...
No regrets.
I DID put up a sequel thing to Love It this past week, by the way, in case you were interested... ;)
YOU ARE DONT DENY
Thank you SO much for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't even know why you guys read my stuff because I feel like half of it is more boring than history class but eh.
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